


Madagascar

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 02:01:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/792766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist





	Madagascar

 

## Madagascar

by Rhipodon Society

Author's webpage: <http://www.geocities.com/soho/square/6381>

Not my characters, not for money.

* * *

 **MADAGASCAR**  
  
  
 _*****_  
Give a small boy a hammer, and he will find that  
everything he encounters needs pounding.

\--Kaplan's Law of the Instrument  
*****

**8:05 AM**

"Who the hell are you?"

"I'm with the phone company."

Jim Ellison sat down at his desk and thought about coffee. He needed some, and soon.

"I can see that. What are you doing with my phone?"

"I'm untangling the cord. Tangled cords drive me nuts."

Jim could smell coffee in the break room. He'd swear it was calling out to him.

"Ma Bell sent you down here to untangle my phone cord?"

"Uh ... no. I'm here `cause you guys are having trouble with your switchboard. I just noticed your cord, and I'm telling you, you gotta make sure you don't twist the headset before you put it back in the cradle."

"Fine," Jim said. "I'll watch that. Now, could you--"

"You know the absolute best way to untangle these things? Unclip `em at both ends and throw the cord across the room. Just let fly. God's truth, man, works every time."

Jim looked at the young man the way he usually eyed violent criminals.

"Go away," he suggested.

"Sure. Okay. Right. Sorry about the ... I'll just get out of your way."

Jim looked at his watch. Not even 8:15. This day already felt like a headache, and he definitely needed coffee if he was going to survive.  
  
 _*****_  
Give him an inch, and he'll screw you.

\--Farber's Law  
*****

**9:13 AM**

"H. ...:"

"Yeah, Jim?"

"I was wondering if you could explain something to me."

"What's that?"

"Since you did half the work on this case, and since you got half the credit, why is *all* of the paperwork on *my* desk?"

Brown shrugged.

"I figured Hairboy could do it."

"Sandburg is my partner. He is not the typing pool. Besides, he won't be in today."

"Then I guess you've got a problem," H. said, picking up his coat, "because I have to go talk to a suspect. Later."

Jim took a sip of his coffee. It was cold. He carried it to H.'s desk and poured the dregs into an African violet, then left his cup in the break room sink. Christ. It wasn't even ten o'clock.  
  
 _*****_  
To beat the bureaucracy, make your problem their problem.

\--Principle of Displaced Hassle  
*****

**10:00 AM**

"Ellison."

"I'd like to report a nuisance."

"You've got the wrong department, ma'am. We're having a problem with our--"

"Switchboard, yes, I know. I've already spoken with officers in Vice, Crime Prevention, and the high school liaison program. Which department is this?"

"Major crimes. I'll just transfer you--"

"Don't you dare transfer me. I could wind up speaking with someone in Mongolia. Why don't you take down my complaint?"

"Ma'am, I'm sorry, but that isn't--"

"It will only take a minute."

"I -- fine. You want to report a nuisance?"

"Yes. My neighbour is making a terrible racket. Can you hear it?"

Jim smiled. She might have called the right extension after all. He concentrated, then shook his head.

"All I hear is a dog barking."

"That's it. That's my neighbour."

"Your neighbour is pretending to be a dog?"

"No, my neighbour is a dog. Well, he's my neighbour's dog."

Jim pinched the bridge of his nose in unconscious imitation of his partner.

"I hate to tell you this, but the Cascade PD doesn't handle animal control anymore. You'll have to call City Hall."

"I did. They told me they'd transferred animal control to the ASPCA. Some services in exchange for funding deal they've worked out."

"Did you want the number for the ASPCA?"

"No. I have it. A young woman there told me the dog was just expressing itself. Apparently they feel that animals have the same rights as people. So, I thought, fine. If a person were making this much noise, I'd have them arrested."

"Ma'am, we're not going to arrest a dog."

"Then what do you suggest I do?"

"I don't know. Tell it to shut up. Feed it a Valium. I have to get back to work."

"Thank you, detective."

"No problem."  
  
 _*****_  
On a beautiful day like this, it's hard to believe  
anyone can be unhappy -- but we'll work on it.

\--Barr's Comment on Domestic Tranquillity  
*****

**10:41AM**

"What do we have here?"

"One person dead. Male, mid-thirties. We think the wife did it."

Jim looked over the officer's shoulder into the living room, where a woman was being relieved of a large kitchen knife by two uniformed cops. She was swearing and spitting at the corpse of a man who had clearly been stabbed to death.

"You think?" Jim asked. Jesus. Sometimes he really did feel as though he worked in animal control. "Okay ... let's bring her in."  
  
 _*****_  
A professor's enthusiasm for teaching the introductory course  
varies inversely with the likelihood of his having to do it.

\--Waffle's Law  
*****

 

The note on his desk was from Mitchell in Public Relations, who seemed to be the person Blair had reached by calling Jim's extension.

"Call your partner at the university," it said. Jim looked at his watch and decided to invite Blair to lunch. Sure, the kid was busy, but in theory he had to eat sometime. Jim picked up his phone.

"Professor Sandburg's office."

"Is Blair around?"

"Oh, hi, Friday."

Jim recognized the voice of the student who was helping Blair this term, and bit back a nasty reply. He was a pretty good kid, in spite of the smart mouth.

"Yeah. Blair called me earlier."

"He said to tell you that he'd called to see if you wanted to grab lunch, but then he got stuck proctoring an exam."

"Oh," Jim said. "Give him my condolences."

"If you're buying," the student said, "I'm sure as hell free."

Jim laughed.

"Maybe some other time."  
  
 _*****_  
Make it sufficiently difficult for people to do  
something, and most people will stop doing it.

\--No.3 Pencil Principle  
*****

**12:30PM**

"This isn't what I ordered."

"What's your point?"

The girl behind the counter looked as if she genuinely might not know. Jim leaned in closer.

"I want what I ordered."

"What's wrong with what I gave you?"

Jim stared at her. How did you deal with people who didn't speak a language? Blair might know, but he wasn't around. Aware of the growing line behind him, Jim took his food and left.  
  
 _*****_  
Things get worse under pressure.

\--Murphy's Law of Thermodynamics  
*****

**2:18PM**

"Jim, what the hell are you doing?"

"I was just trying to untangle my phone cord, sir."

"*What?*"

"The phone company person said ... never mind."

"Just ... look first next time, all right?"

"Yes, sir. Sorry."

Simon walked off, rubbing his temple. Jim retrieved the phone cord and tried to pretend that no one was looking at him as he returned to his desk.  
  
 _*****_  
The man who can smile when things go wrong has  
thought of someone he can blame it on.

\--Jones' Law  
*****

**3:36PM**

"Jim, there's some woman in lockup who asked to see you. Says she talked to you earlier."

"Thanks, Rafe." After a moment's thought, he added, "What's she in for?"

"Trespassing, I think. I didn't get the details."

The woman was in her forties, well-dressed, and not at all pleased.

"Detective Ellison?"

"That's right."

"I just did what you told me."

"I put two Valium in a ball of ground beef and threw it over the fence."

Jim stared at her.

"You ... how did you get picked up for trespassing?"

"I overthrew. The ground beef got caught in a tree, so I went to get it. I was only doing what you--"

"Told you to do, yeah. Lady ... I was *kidding*."

"Well, my god, Detective, you could have said so. I thought you were speaking in your professional capacity. You know, this is your fault."

Jim couldn't think of a response. She was a nutcase, obviously, but that was no excuse for inspiring her.

"Look," he offered. "why don't I talk with your neighbour and see if he'll drop the charges?"

"Will you arrest his dog?"

"Ma'am, I told you..."

"All right. All right. Dropping the charges will be fine."  
  
 _*****_  
There is a solution to every problem -- the only difficulty is finding it.

\--Evvie Net's Law  
*****

**4:02PM**

"Chief, I need you to call someone for me."

"Okay, who?"

"Edward Bruner. He had a woman arrested today for trespassing. I want to you talk him into dropping the charges."

Jim could hear him grinning.

"I bet there's a story behind this."

"You could say that it was ... not that I did anything, but I feel a little ... responsible."

The grin got wider.

"Start talking."  
  
 _*****_  
1\. Things will get worse before they get better.  
2\. Who said things would get better?

\--Ehrmann's Corollary to Ginsberg's Theorem  
*****

**4:23PM**

"Ellison."

"I want to report an exhibitionist."

"Ma'am, you've got the wrong... never mind. An exhibitionist?"

"Yeah. That's what you call it when a guy walks up to you and shows you his--"

"Unless you're on a date, yeah. When did you see this?"

"I'm looking at it right now. He's standing outside my living room window."

"Is he doing anything threatening?"

"No. He's just... pointing."

"Okay. Give me your address."

Jim got out a piece of paper and took down the particulars.

"All right, ma'am. Stay inside the house. I'll send a squad car by."

"Sure. Whenever. There's no rush."  
  
 _*****_  
When you want something done, ask a busy person.

\--Bureaucratic Law  
*****

**4:38PM**

"Okay, it's taken care of."

"Oh, thank you. Thank you so much."

"Having a rough day?"

"You have no idea."

"So sneak out early. I'm making lasagna."

"Real lasagna? With meat? And not that goddamned ostrich meat?"

"Real lasagna with ground beef in the sauce. Happy now?"

Jim smiled.

"Not yet ... but I'm getting closer. See you at 5:30."  
  
 _*****_  
Everything happens at the same time with nothing in between.

\--Robertson's Law  
*****

**4:59PM**

58, 57, 56, 55 ... god, that is the slowest moving second hand in the universe. 42, 41, 40....  
  
 _*****_  
Neurosis is a communicable disease.

\--Short's Law  
*****

**5:32PM**

Jim entered the loft and locked the door behind him, sliding the dead bolt into place. Upon reflection, he also put on the chain.

There was lasagna bubbling in the oven, and Blair was curled up on the couch with glasses at the end of his nose and a book on his lap. Jim went to the phone and turned the ringer off. After a moment, he turned off the answering machine as well. When he looked up, Blair was watching with his eyebrows raised.

"Were you expecting any calls?" Jim asked.

Blair was giving him a half-smile, one corner of his mouth turned up. He shook his head.

"Good," Jim said. He went around the couch to sit behind Blair, pulled Blair close so that he could press his face into Blair's hair and kiss the back of his neck.

"Love you," Jim told him. "Hate them," he added, gesturing at the outside world, "but I love you. Want to move to Antarctica?"

"Sure," Blair said. "Pick the one place in the world that's colder than Cascade. Make it Madagascar and you've got a deal."

Jim sighed and relaxed under Blair's weight. Everything was absolutely perfect, and he was considering not moving ever again.

"Okay. Madagascar it is."

End

  
_all quotations taken from Paul Dickson's "the Official Rules"_


End file.
